Origin: Earth

by Forgotten Muse

ARCHIVED

1. The lost and the forgotten

TITLE: Origin: Earth

AUTHOR: Thalia Evans

RATING: PG for mild language.

DISCLAIMER: All the characters are © to their respective owners. (Sega/Egmont Fleetway/Whoever) Don't sue me. Student. Skint.

SPOILERS: No.

PAIRINGS: No slash, no het, no nothing. Sorry. (bye-bye, readers…. Meh)

SUMMARY: Fleetway. After Robotnik's defeat it seems that peace has been restored to Mobius at last. But Sonic still has his own inner battles to fight, and soon he will be facing chaos from within and without- and the possibility that the history of Mobius will be changed forever.

WARNINGS: Careful you don't fall in a plothole.

TIMELINE: Shortly after Sonic the Comic #184.

Origin: Earth

A Sonic the Comic fan fiction by Thalia Evans

A/N

This is a Sonic the Comic (Egmont Fleetway) fanfiction. Don't be put off, though, as I've tried to make it as accessible as possible for those who haven't read the UK comic.

It carries on directly from STC #184, and is not connected with STC-Online in any way.

Ugh, I've been listening to way too much Linkin Park and Evanescence. Not that you can tell from the fic…. insert sarcasm here

Anyway, you probably neither know nor care, but I've been reworking my old Fleetway fan comic/fic series. This is the first of those rewrites, vaguely based on a fan comic I did two or three years ago and an idea I've had for even longer… so excuse the poor storyline. It's also going to serve as a build up to a loosely SA2 based story, hence the references.

The title isn't what it seems, there is no way I'm going to bung all the characters on Earth a la Sonic X. Just read, it should all make sense eventually…. I hope…

Sorry about the length, it did go on a bit more than I thought it would….

Anyway, yeah. Let's get on with it.

(Thanks to: Nutzoide for proof reading, everyone else for putting up with my ranting about this thing.)

(edited 04/03/05- fixed a few holes.)

---

Prologue

"Against my will I stand beside my own reflection.

It's haunting how I can't seem

To find myself again,

My walls are closing in."

Linkin Park

He was running for his life.

The figure paused briefly to catch his breath and cast an apprehensive glance at the thing following close on his heels. He gasped, gathered himself and lurched onwards; the sentient storm was nearer than ever. It rushed onwards with the force of a tsunami, a great grey bank of cloud laced with neon blue and white flashes of lightning.

He limped ahead, ragged and battered, running with the desperation of someone who had no strength left but knew his worst nightmare awaited him within that cloud; he knew it because he had lived it.

The figure found himself fleeing from one scene to another, each place familiar in some way yet not the place he was seeking. He carried nothing with him, having left it all behind somewhere. All that was left was his essence and his need to survive.

His pursuer was so close nowtoo close. Pain knifed across his right leg as something slashed at him from behind; he went down, rolled, somehow managed to right himself into a crouch. Panting, he risked another glance behind him, then one at the injury- red stain on amber fur- then he was off again, limping heavily but still determined. The roar of the thing behind drove him to scramble faster still.

He barely noticed the changes around him until the diminished sound behind him caught his attention. It was falling back. He looked around- this place was grey and ruined, and up ahead there was the remains of a once-substantial wall. He remembered it, and shuddered involuntarily. It had been a sort of prison, once-

But if that thing behind him was reluctant to enter this place, all the better. He could hide here, but he didn't have to like it.

Anywhere its influence was weaker was better than no refuge at all…

As if to contradict his assessment of the situation, the storm seemed to make one final effort and sped towards him with renewed fury. He gave a yell of dismay.

Summoning the last of his strength, the figure coiled and leapt, vaulting over the low, broken wall. He felt and heard the storm slam against the ruins.

Then it stopped.

He looked up. The winds were roaring around his hiding place- which appeared to be the remnants of a tower- in a perfect circle. Despite being only a few feet tall, the walls seemed to be holding it back for now… as if he had found the eye of the hurricane…

A little involuntary smile crept onto his face. The emotions swilling around in his mind took shape and formed themselves into a one-syllable sigh of relief:

"…Safe."

The walls couldn't keep it out forever, it knew he was there after all. But it was weaker here, so maybe he had bought himself a little time.

But he knew he should have let himself be engulfed at the beginning. It was a losing battle and he couldn't convince himself otherwise; besides, after everything that had happened, this was precisely what he deserved. And yet the will to survive that formed a significant part of who he was wouldn't let him give in just yet.

The figure looked around at the surrounding rubble. After taking a few moments to rest, he lifted one of the stones and started to build up the walls around himself.

---

Chapter 1: The Lost and the Forgotten

"I look in the mirror and see your face

if I look deep enough

so many things inside that are

just like you are taking over"

Evanescence

The Emerald Hill control tower was usually home to a small group of friends; tonight, however, only one room was occupied.

Like most inhabitants of planet Mobius, he resembled a terran animal- in this case a hedgehog, just over three feet tall when standing and covered on a mix of short fur and sharp quills. Although the fur made it difficult to tell his exact age, he was obviously young and in surprisingly good condition considering the number of close calls he'd had over the years. The hedgehog would have seemed an average example of his species if it wasn't for his unusually athletic build, and the fact that, for the most part, he was an improbable shade of blue.

The expression on the sleeping Mobian's face was troubled. Sonic made a small noise of protest and curled into a tight, instinctive ball; he was dreaming, and his mind was elsewhere.

Then something- either a figment of the dream or some outside influence- caused a shudder to pass through his small frame. A pair of startling green eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright on the bed, a gasp caught in the back of his throat.

Sonic blinked furiously in the semidarkness, trying to locate the source of whatever it was that had shocked him awake. His gaze roved over the chaotic teenage mess that was his room; flitting over the bookshelf half-filled with volumes he would probably never bother to read; the empty pizza boxes and other junk; and the battered green couch pushed up against a curved wooden wall with a round window, from which emanated a watery grey light. Eventually it came to rest on the alarm clock next to the bed. He pawed at his eyes and it came into focus: the glowing red numbers proclaimed five in the morning.

"Damn…" Sonic let himself slump back against the pillows, making his already-mussed spines splay outwards, and stared blearily at the ceiling. Details of the dream began to percolate into his brain. It was the same nightmare again, the one that he could never entirely remember, the one with the red-eyed demon.

Four nights running and this rude awakening was the earliest yet…

The first time- although he never had admitted it to anyone- Sonic had been scared. The second, worried. The third, and that had been replaced by a vague unease. This time he was just irked at the loss of valuable beauty sleep.

The odd thing was, something was different this time. The dream itself hadn't woken him, but something else. Sonic was sure that something had tweaked his senses. A half-heard sound from the village outside, or…?

But was that really likely, given how heavy a sleeper he usually was?

Sonic sighed and tried to relax, staring upwards through half-closed eyes. He was not living up to that part of his reputation right now. Thirty seconds and boredom took the place of anxiety. One minute and his fingers were tapping impatiently against the sheets. Two, and he was out of bed and fumbling for the light switch having decided there was no point even attempting to go back to sleep.

The hedgehog squinted until he became used to the light, then rummaged through the mess until he produced a pair of gloves, socks (reasonably clean) and his new trainers with the yellow arch on the sole, which he thought looked 'pretty cool'. He dressed, then wandered downstairs in search of coffee.

It seemed that Sonic wasn't the only one awake at this early hour. About ten minutes later, the strident beeping of an incoming transmission sent the hedgehog bolting upstairs to the circular computer room on the top floor of the building. The domed glass ceiling let in the first rays of light, and the hologramatic projection of a balding human face hovered in the centre of the room; this was the Kintobor Computer, the last remaining trace of the kindly scientist who had become the madman Dr. Ivo Robotnik.

At one of the wall-hugging computer terminals, a button was punched and a connection made to a similar machine on a waterlogged island off the coast of Metropolis City. Screens lit up at both; one displaying the blue hedgehog, clutching a steaming mug in one hand and with quills still a little messy from sleep, the other the pointed face of a tired echidna with damp crimson fur, darkened here and there with streaks of dirt and flecks of debris. He was up to his knees in murky water, and the screen itself was banded with static.

"Hey, Red." Sonic smirked, but was unable to stifle a yawn. "S'up? Set your alarm seven hours too early again? Should be more careful. You need all the beauty sleep you can get, if you know what I mean."

Knuckles narrowed his blue-purple eyes and almost managed to hide a smirk of his own.

"You don't look so wide awake yourself. Got you out of bed, did I?"

"Naah." The hedgehog gestured with his mug. "I was up already. So what's the emergency?"

"Not entirely sure, Sonic…" the echidna paused to glance at the scene of ruin around him; the emerald chamber was an impressive mess. His gaze lingered briefly on the seven Chaos emeralds. The large gemstones glowed brightly, more so than usual. He turned back to his screen. "It's very strange. It started about fifteen minutes ago; the emeralds seem to be reacting to something…"

Sonic wondered, just for an instant, whether the half-remembered something that had woken him and whatever Knuckles was talking about could possibly be connected. Then he dismissed the thought.

"And that has something to do with me, because…?"

"Don't snap at me. I wouldn't have bothered to tell you if Amy hadn't insisted… I expect she thought you'd want to know. In case it means trouble, or something." Knuckles looked annoyed. He'd been working well into the night again, trying to repair the Floating Island's damaged systems-the last thing he needed to deal with right now was a grumpy hedgehog. Sonic just looked nonplussed.

"Yeah, well they're your emeralds. Your problem. Nothing to do with me."

"I think you've made that perfectly clear already…" muttered the echidna. He wasn't going to admit it, but he could have used Sonic's help over the past week. The process of raising the drowned island from the ocean floor and getting everything working again would have been easier with the supersonic hedgehog's assistance- in fact Porker Lewis, Tekno, Tails and Amy were already chipping in with the repairs; they had stayed the night on the island and would probably be leaving by tomorrow, but Sonic had remained behind in the Emerald Hill zone.

Knuckles thought he knew why, but mentioning it would have made Sonic more than grumpy. Personally, the echidna thought his former rival was just being paranoid.

"…and don't ask me to come over there, because I'm not," the hedgehog was saying. "What if Robotnik decided to attack the zone, huh? We still don't know where he ran off to… besides"

"It's not your problem. I know. You said."

The two exchanged glares for a few moments. Robotnik was not the issue and both knew it; the near suicidal maniac had disappeared without trace after his last failed attempt at destroying the planet.

What was on Sonic's mind was a more immediate danger, and Knuckles knew he would not be swayed.

"Well, I'll let you know if something happens to make it your problem." He decided to give up before the conversation turned into a full-blown argument. It was far too early in the morning for that. Besides, even Knuckles knew that getting into an argument with Sonic was a Very Bad Idea.

"Yeah, whatever." Sonic sounded dismissive. "See ya, Red." The hedgehog shook his head and yawned again while ending the transmission. Stupid Chaos emeralds, he thought. He had better things to do than listen to the ravings of a paranoid echidna.

Within hours, he had practically forgotten the exchange. The grey morning began to unfold into another perfectly ordinary, boring day. Sonic had no idea, nor could he have known, that this new development most certainly was his problem; for somewhere high above the planet's surface, something had arrived…

---

Midday. A bird floated effortlessly though the atmosphere; from the ground, it was impossible to tell whether the black dot was simply an animal on the lookout for food, or a Mobian anthropomorph going about his or her daily business.

In any case, the small thrown stone had no chance at all of hitting the soaring creature. The chip of granite flew upwards, then plummeted to the ground after reaching a peak of only a few metres.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik watched dispassionately as it skittered down the rocky hillside, dislodging other bits of scree which joined its' descent, until it clattered to a halt amidst a pile of similar debris. Faint echoes of the fall pinged around his immediate surroundings.

High above, the target still drifted oblivious.

Story of my life, Robotnik thought to himself.

All he'd wanted was to rule the world, was that really too much to ask? And he had succeeded, for a time. He'd had his own army of mindless slaves and a citadel built in his image. He'd had… well, he'd had the entire planet. Until thatmeddling spikeball had brought it all crashing down around him.

After that, it had been failure after miserable failure. The hedgehog was there at every turn, until Robotnik couldn't take it any more; he had realised then that he wasn't going to win, never would his empire be restored to its' former glory. He was too old for this. He had snapped, plunged into a bottomless pit of depression, and opted to destroy planet Mobius instead- the only option left had been to erase the planet and its inhabitants that he hated so much - especially one inhabitant in particular- out of existence.

Thanks to the inept bumbling of his sidekick Grimer, who had released an ancient, powerful creature simply known as Chaos, that dream had nearly come to fruition.

But then there had been Sonic. Or to be more precise, Super Sonic.

Failure!

Why didn't the stone ever hit its intended target?

Now, several long days later, the former dictator sat on a rock near the remains of his mountaintop fortress, waiting to be found. He expected that the aforementioned meddling spikeball would be looking for him.

Robotnik had had enough. His clothes were torn and dirty; his red moustache drooped and was matted with debris, and his obese body was slightly less spherical than usual due to his not eating for the past few days. In the distance he could make out the skyline of the Metropolis, planet Mobius' largest city; he had owned it all once, and had made it into the huge conurbation it was today. He felt bitter. He wanted revenge. But that was outweighed by the part of him that was past caring.

The bird circled above, closer now. Robotnik's mind pictured vultures.

Odd… now it seemed to have turned, and was heading towards him in a remarkably straight line. He squinted.

Not a bird.

The wings were stiff and didn't move like a bird's would, he observed. And- his red eyes narrowed again, one pudgy hand lifting to shield them- it was too big. And travelling too fast. Definitely moving in his direction now…

A plane, then. The scientist huffed. Probably being piloted by the little orange fuzzball that was always following Sonic around. No… that wasn't right either.

The outlaws' bizarre little flying machines looked nothing like the thing that was now low enough to observe properly; it shot over Robotnik's head, a strange whine emanating from an unseen engine as it turned in a wide arc and headed for the nearest flat patch of ground to land.

Unconsciously, his scientific mind began to assess the vehicle as it descended further. It rather resembled a flying beetle; a flattened, blocky shape with narrow tapering wings angled slightly upwards from the fuselage, and some sort of bulbous cargo section forming a hump along the top. Gunmetal in colour, the craft's design seemed basic but not necessarily primitive.

Four insectile 'legs' began to uncurl from the craft's underside as it dropped out of sight behind a stony outcrop. Moments later, the whining sound of the engine faded into silence.

Emotionlessly, Robotnik waited for the occupants of the vehicle to make themselves known.

When they did, it came as something of a surprise. The craft wasn't one Robotnik recognised- he had designed most of the flying vehicles on Mobius after all- but he had half-expected it to be something the Metropolis authorities had cooked up and were now using to track him down. However, the figures moving stiffly towards him now were not what he expected.

He knew for sure that no-one else used robots. If you asked him, the…creatures who called Mobius home weren't capable of such intelligence.

He gave the two machines a critical appraisal. Of course, they didn't look as good as his old badnik troopers, despite being roughly the same size and with a similar humanoid build…. but they looked efficient enough. Silver and rather skeletal-looking, they had the same blocky appearance as the craft they had arrived in. There were no heads as such, just a cluster of sensor lights; the arms ended in powerful claw hands, the right hand of each clutching some sort of large gun.

Robotnik was nonplussed and remained seated, eyes shifting to the third figure who was flanked on either side by one of the six-foot-tall mechanicals. It took a step forward, face concealed by something rather like a motorcycle helmet. The robots remained where they were, standing silently to attention.

Absently, Robotnik noted something odd about the figure. Only a few Mobian species stood so tall, and had such small hands and feet in proportion to the rest of the body. Not that it mattered to him; one furball was pretty much like any other as far as he was concerned.

"Would your surname happen to be Kintobor?" it asked, sounding a little surprised itself.

The fat man's already unpleasant features curled into a snarl.

"My name," he growled, "Is Robotnik."

Idiot, he added, under his breath. Then, more loudly: "Well? What is it you want with me?"

The figure's hands lifted to slowly remove it's helmet. After shaking its hair back into place and running a gloved hand through it, the person looked up. Robotnik's eyes widened ever so slightly.

The creature was of a kind he hadn't expected to encounter again within his lifetime. The scientific name for the species came to mind: homo sapiens.

It was another human being.

"What we want, Mr. Robotnik, is your help."

---

It was a few days later. During the lull between lunchtime and the rush hour the streets of Metropolis city were relatively peaceful- the Groovy Train coffee shop hadn't seen much business over the last couple of hours, the only customer being a quiet fox who had stopped for a quick bite to eat on his way back to the Green Hill Zone. The main part of the shop was now empty apart from its owner, who had left her station at the counter and was sitting at one of the tables with a half-empty mug in one paw and the other tracing across the page of a very thick, tattered-looking book which took up quite a lot of the surface in front of her. She occasionally frowned and muttered to herself before squinting at the yellowed parchment, her bushy tail flicking from side to side.

The place actually resembled a themed bar more than a coffee shop- the theme being utterly psychedelic. Over to one side was a stage and a group of egg-shaped seats from which a band could entertain the customers, but at the moment they were unoccupied. The tables and chairs were a variety of pastel shades, the walls painted with bright swirls of colour and the whole place illuminated with the soft glow of lava lamps. A sheet of paper reading 'help wanted' had been stuck to the door.

The black cat, who was completely absorbed in her reading, didn't look out of place at all- although she probably would have anywhere else. Her dress sense was unusual to say the least- a pair of green trousers that billowed at the ankles accompanied a purple blouse with a dramatically high collar, and ears pierced in many places completed the effect.

After a few more moments of straining her eyes trying to read the text-which was both handwritten in a headache inducing scrawl and faded with age- Ebony looked up and sighed. For a while she sat with her elbows planted irreverently on the hefty volume in front of her, staring into space while her fingers played absently with the jet black fur on the side of her face. Then she huffed again, drained what remained in her mug and snapped the book shut before stalking off towards the back room.

An abrupt change from the bright décor of the coffee shop itself, the office was disappointingly ordinary and contained only a few chairs and a desk. Sat on one of the chairs was an older woman with a taste in clothing only slightly less extreme than Ebony's. Beneath a shock of pure white hair, her expression was slightly dazed; if you didn't know better it would be easy to assume that the light-haired dog was slightly mad purely by her expression, but Ebony knew that look well.

"Not again, Pyjamas."

Ebony's friend nodded.

"It's not a false alarm this time, I'm sure of it." She sat up straighter. "Something's about to happen." Ebony took a seat herself, while shaking her head amusedly.

"I've heard that one before. How many times have your visions come true?"

"Enough to know that I should pay attention to them," she replied. Then added more defensively: "They might not be accurate all the time, but they usually mean something. Remember when Knuckles turned up riding that flying creature…. "

"Which you thought was going to be a tiny butterfly…" Ebony concluded with a smirk, recalling the huge pterosaur as she brought up the scene in her mind.

"Still."

The cat rolled her eyes, but knew her friend was at least partly right. Those premonitions of hers did tend to come true in one way or another, even if that way usually wasn't quite what anyone was expecting. Besides, it would be ignorant of her not to at least hear Pyjamas out.

"Well, maybe you're right. So what was it this time?"

Pyjamas frowned beneath her fringe and scratched her head pensively.

"That's the odd thing…." A pause. "It doesn't make much sense really."

Ebony had the presence of mind not to say out loud the thought that ran through her head.

"It's the same vision I've been having for days. I suddenly get this sense of danger…" Pyjamas began. Ebony found the same thought recurring, and had to voice it this time.

"So what's new?" she sighed.

"…it's difficult to describe, as if the past, present and future are colliding somehow," the older Mobian continued, oblivious.

"Weird."

"That's not all." Pyjamas thought for a moment. "I see an image…. A bird."

"A bird? That doesn't mean anything to me," Ebony looked puzzled, then added "Unless you mean that raven who complained about the cappuccino yesterday." Grimacing slightly at the memory, she looked over at the self-proclaimed psychic for confirmation. Pyjamas however shook her head dismissively.

"No, no. That's not what I meant. What I saw wasn't any ordinary bird." Her voice grew more vague. "It was golden… with wings of flame…"

Ebony thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Sounds like you're describing a phoenix—"

"That's right…"

The cat gave an amused snort, and shrugged. "That vision of yours must have been way off. Phoenixes are just a myth."

Although the frown was hidden by her hair, the denial in Pyjamas' head shake was obvious.

"You know better than anyone that my visions aren't always," a pause, "-literal. A phoenix could be symbolic of something else, I just need to work out what…"

Ebony nodded in understanding.

"I get it. The 'rising from the ashes' thing, right? But…" the black cat paused thoughtfully, her tail involuntarily twitching once or twice as it always did when there was something on her mind. "—but why would that be dangerous?"

A shrug from Pyjamas, and a small apologetic smirk.

"I just don't know, Ebony. Maybe you're right and I am worrying about nothing…. It's just that I've had the same premonition three times this week. That just isn't normal."

"Hmmm, well…" Ebony cast a mildly distasteful glance towards the closed door, beyond which the thick volume she had been poring over still sat on the table. "I could look it up in the book if you want, there's bound to be something about phoenixes in there." Judging by her grimace though, she didn't relish the thought of trying to make sense of that book again. Pyjamas picked up on this and shook her head no.

"Not after you spent all day looking for that counter-spell. You'll give yourself a migraine…"

"If I haven't already," Ebony replied with a weary smile, before rubbing her eyes and yawning. The yawn turned into a sigh, and she looked down glumly. "I'm just not having any luck. I've found the counter-spell but it's even more difficult than the original—" another glare in the direction of the book- "And the fact it was written five hundred years ago isn't helping. It's like trying to understand another language, even when I can read the handwriting." She sighed again, propped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand.

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out," Pyjamas tried to reassure her. "You didn't study sorcery for fifteen years for nothing."

"Don't remind me," the cat groaned, looking up. "It wasn't easy. But I'm starting to think this one is beyond even me." A frown. "I still can't believe Super Sonic insisted I learn that merging spell."

"He must have known it would come to that eventually," Pyjamas mused quietly. After a slow, reluctant nod, Ebony continued.

"…But I'd never have used it if I didn't think it could be reversed. If only I'd had the chance to check the book first… I'm not even sure if I did it right."

"There wasn't time," Pyjamas reminded her. "You couldn't have done anything else. You'd probably have been killed…"

"I suppose…" she trailed off, shaking her head. It had been awful seeing Super Sonic lose control again, reverting back to his original demonic state. When Sonic had suggested exactly the same thing that Super Sonic himself had spoken to her about not long before, Ebony had- very reluctantly- taken the only course of action open to her- putting things back to the way they had been in the beginning by merging the two hedgehogs into one. As Pyjamas said, there probably wasn't anything else she could have done- but still, the feline sorceress felt that she had not only betrayed a friend, but had inflicted his worst nightmare on him. A long time ago she and Pyjamas had decided to take care of the confused yellow hedgehog who had wandered into the shop in search of work, and Ebony especially felt she had let him down badly.

The cat looked away, thinking.

"I think I'll give Sonic another call," she mused.

"Again? You know he's not going to listen."

"Yeah." Ebony sighed. "But I've got to do something…"

---

Sonic ignored the ringing of the phone upstairs until someone else rushed past and went up to answer it. It must have been Amy, he assumed, because a few minutes later she came down and headed for the kitchen.

He lay sprawled across the couch, boredly flicking through the television channels and trying not to think of very much. It was easier said than done given the choice of viewing- a couple of daytime TV quiz programmes, a puppet show aimed at young children and a news item about recent UFO sightings. He eventually settled for the latter, listening with half an ear while his eyes pointed towards the ceiling.

Sonic forgot to stifle a yawn, and frowned. Nightmares, he could put up with. It wasn't as if he hadn't had them before, he told himself stubbornly. Nothing he couldn't handle. Lack of sleep was an inconvenience, but if he ignored the dreams they would go away eventually. Of course they would.

His friends were back from the Floating Island now; he could hear Tails and Amy Rose talking quietly in the kitchen, and Porker was no doubt in his lab doing something inevitably scientific and in Sonic's mind, tedious. The last thing he wanted was to let them know he had a problem.

No, he corrected, he didn't have a problem. A lot on his mind maybe, but definitely not a problem… he had defeated monsters, aliens and forty-foot robots; a few dreams were nothing he couldn't handle. Even if they were about that.

Especially if they were about 'that'. To him it was just another battle, and one that he would fight alone or not at all.

"Sonic lost in thought. That's a first."

The hedgehog blinked, and green eyes focused on the rose coloured shape looking down on him. For once he was caught unawares and unable to fire back a suitable response, so he aimed a glare at Amy's smirk instead and sat up.

"You did want coffee, didn't you?" the pink hedgehog handed him a mug. Then added, "You look like you need some."

"It's called 'boredom'," Sonic replied acidly, and sipped at the hot liquid before setting the mug down on the floor. The coffee was black, with the usual four sugars. "I'm glad Robotnik's gone, but there's just nothin' to do around here any more." He met a sceptical stare when he looked back up, but Amy didn't press the point- at least, not for the first few moments. The girl sat down next to him, her springy quiff of brightly coloured hair bouncing with the movement.

"That was Ebony on the phone again…" she began after a moment.

"Was it." No interest. On the television screen, someone was holding up photographs of blurry dots in the sky and proclaiming them the greatest scientific discovery of all time. Sonic pretended to watch.

"Flying saucers?" he commented dryly.

"Sonic, you haven't even spoken to her." Amy persisted, ignoring any attempt to change the subject. "She's worried."

"About what? I hardly even know her." A pause. "That girl's crazy if you ask me."

Amy rolled her eyes, exasperated. Why did Sonic have to be so stubborn? Sighing, she decided to get straight to the point.

"I've told you before. The fact is, back at Robotnik's fortress Ebony used a spell on you that she'd never tried- she doesn't know what other effects it might have had." Amy was treading on thin ice, and knew it. Sonic's ears were folded back against his head in annoyance, and he was looking anywhere but in her direction. "You said yourself that you didn't know what would happen from now on…"

"And I said I could handle it," he interrupted. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." She narrowed her eyes at him, noting the droopy spines and ears; fatigue he wasn't quite managing to hide. "You look like you haven't slept in days. In fact, I know you haven't."

So she knew. That was just like Amy, Sonic thought, and muttered something.

"What?" she frowned.

He looked at her with a mixture of anger, reluctance and something else, and repeated himself in a dangerously calm, flat voice.

"I said, what do you expect?"

Amy bit her lip. Sonic was gazing at the TV again, stubbornly silent. She knew from experience that was the most she would get out of him. And he was right, in a way- it would be a long time before anything was back to normal or whatever passed for it. It wasn't just what had happened at Robotnik's mountaintop fortress, but the tragedy of just before. Sonic had to bear the mental burden of both events, seemingly more so than the others- and he wouldn't ask for help. Sonic never asked for help where emotions were concerned, whether he needed it or not. Little wonder he was having trouble sleeping.

There were noises from the kitchen; Tails rummaging around for some snack or other. Amy cast a knowing glance in that direction; the conversation between herself and Sonic would, she knew, probably start to get heated if it carried on. Amy would accuse Sonic of being too stubborn and proud for his own good, and Sonic would either humph and sulk and close up completely, or spectacularly lose his already short temper. Both would probably result in him storming off and not reappearing again for several hours. There was no need to involve the young fox in it all.

Sonic watched her go. He knew she would pick up the subject later, when there was no one else around; for now though he was just glad to be left alone.

She was starting to sound like a nagging mother, he said to himself, but failed to smile at his own joke. He closed his eyes and rubbed at the slightly coarse fur around his eyebrow, where a headache was beginning to throb into life, before allowing his hand to fall to his side as he stared into the blackness and listened to the incessant chattering of the television.

The noise was still there a few moments later when he noticed that everything was not black but grey; only now the sound was high pitched and whispery, like the howl of distant winds mixed with unintelligible voices. Everything was grey because that was the colour of the ground stretching away beneath his racing feet and the low cloud bank above.

It was all very strange, but that didn't seem to matter to Sonic at all as he sped over the surreal and blurred landscape. There was a kind of urgency, just like all those times when he had raced against the clock to avert some disaster. In this case his goal- his adversary- was a cylindrical spike of rock jutting from the horizon, with a yellow-white light beaming from the top in stark contrast to all the grey. It seemed to have an aura of malice around it; a sort of unwelcome feeling as if it did not belong there. Debris-strewn winds howled around it as if they too wanted rid of this intruder.

Sonic was aware that he was also a trespasser here, wherever here was. Something else seemed to realise that, too.

A powerful gust of wind buffeted him from in front and slightly to the left. Then he was swept up in it- no, that wasn't quite right, it was almost as if he became part of the gale. He was being carried- or running, he wasn't quite sure which- at the same speed, back the way he had come.

The wind seemed made up of images that flashed across his consciousness. Most of them made him shudder inwardly, if only because of the powerful hate-rage feeling that accompanied each flash. Most came and went too quickly for him to recognise, but some were familiar, as if he had viewed them before from a slightly different angle.

Before he had the chance to make sense of any of this, the wind had dumped him roughly on the ground, further away from the landmark than when he had started. Sonic growled in annoyance, picked himself up and started off again.

He was struck from the right this time, and it was as if the storm itself had also become impatient. Instead of simply having his path reversed the hedgehog was tossed helplessly into the air before being hurled back to the ground, as if he had been batted by a gigantic paw.

The impact raised a cloud of grey ash but oddly, Sonic felt no pain. Instead, there was another flash, and an image: a red eye glared balefully at him, and then it was communicating; not in words, but with an intense blast of emotion.

The message was clear enough, however.

'Go Away.'

…

Sonic gasped suddenly, eyes jerking open. He looked around bewilderedly before remembering where he was, and grimaced. Must have dosed off.

'How embarrassing…' was his first thought as he observed gratefully that nobody was in the room. The television was blaring loud music at him, aggravating the headache that the unplanned sleep had failed to cure, so he quickly snatched up the remote control and turned it off; but not before noticing it was tuned to a different channel to the one he'd left it on.

In other words, someone had probably been sitting there watching him, and that someone had no doubt been sniggering to themselves that (a). Sonic had fallen asleep- sitting up, no less, and (b). that the TV's incessant noise hadn't woken him up.

Sonic seethed quietly to himself for a few moments. He must have looked like a total idiot; and if there was something Sonic the hedgehog was not supposed to do, it was to look like a total idiot. At least they had had the sense to leave him well alone though- it would have been twice as bad if he had woken tucked up in bed or something.

Eventually his mind turned to what had finally roused him, and it hadn't been the TV.

That dream again… apart from the last few moments, the details had already blurred to a mush in his brain. But that fragment of memory was enough to tell him that it had been the same one as always, and the vision persisted as a nagging unease in the back of his mind.

"Blegh-"

Sonic's nose wrinkled in disgust as he suddenly found himself spluttering over the mouthful of cold coffee that he had absentmindedly gulped while his thoughts were elsewhere. His free hand wiped at the fur around his mouth, revealing it to be turned downwards in a frown. He didn't even like coffee really, or he hadn't used to. But-

…Well, he just seemed to have developed a taste for the stuff. He had followed that train of thought to it's conclusion before, and he didn't want to go there again.

That's what I get, Sonic said to himself, for sitting around thinking about things.

---

The Floating Island. Knuckles the echidna stepped down into the emerald chamber from one of several tubular entrances. Thankfully his arrival was not met by a splash and the uncomfortable feeling of cold water finding its way into his shoes; the floor was finally dry for the most part, and as a result so was he. He quickly made sure that the brown stone and tile chamber was as he had left it, and noted gratefully that there was no new damage. He'd only been away for a few hours- but after the island's crash into the sea, and all the subsequent flooding, the chamber was in a dangerously fragile state. He wouldn't have been surprised if he'd come back to find that one of the few remaining intact columns had collapsed or that part of the ceiling had caved in- or worse, to discover an intruder had found his way into the chamber. Thinking of that gave Knuckles a moment of unease, as he knew how easily a determined thief could get in with most of the island's defences down and its compliment of guardian robots out of commission.

Luckily nothing seemed to have happened in his absence- the ancient structure was still intact and hadn't yet succumbed to the recent flood damage, nor had anyone managed to sneak in that he could see.

He advised himself to stop tempting fate. Then he aimed another glance at a particularly unstable looking support pillar. Two concentric circles of these had once supported the ceiling; now, after eight thousand years of wear and tear, only a few remained. Perhaps it would be best to shore that one up before it went the way of the rest…

Knuckles sighed. Most of the major repairs were complete but the place was still practically falling apart. He suspected that if- when, he corrected, whenhis people returned from wherever they had gone millennia ago, they would not be pleased with the poor job he was doing keeping the Floating Island in reasonable condition.

But at least, if all went well, he would be able to get the island's shields working again within the next few weeks. After that it would only be a matter of time before he could attempt take-off.

The circular room was quiet; the only sounds being an alien whirr from the new computer system Porker had installed- fortunately it was shielded against water- and in the background, the near inaudible hum which emanated from the centre of the chamber.

It wasn't the silence that bothered the scarlet mammal, but the fact that he had noticed it. It had been some time since Sonic's friends left the island- Knuckles had lived alone for as long as he could remember, and had come to welcome the solitude; but now he found he had become used to having the constant noise and bustle of other people around him. The silence felt strange now, and he was torn between looking forward to returning to his solitary existence and wanting to talk to somebody. Conversation with beings other than himself had begun to seem… almost enjoyable.

Well, he reminded himself, Porker Lewis would probably be around sometime in the next few days. And no-one talked as much as Porker did.

Knuckles gave a snort of amusement then, shaking his head. He had never imagined he would find himself wanting company.

Could he actually be lonely, he wondered. No… not possible. He just wasn't used to the renewed peace and quiet just yet. Knuckles dismissed the thought with a shake of his head as his small sound echoed around the room. It wasn't just the quiet that was bothering him, he decided. There was something else… something that wasn't quite right, but he couldn't place it.

"Probably just my imagination," he said to himself. The ruby-furred echidna was not known for being imaginative, but even his mind could play tricks on him on occasion.

His gaze wandered over the room again, just to make sure, but encountered nothing amiss. A slight frown wrinkled his forehead as his eyes settled on the room's centrepiece, the Chaos emeralds. They were contained in a vertical beam of light that rose from a well-like opening in the floor; the shaft pierced right to the core of the island, channelling the emeralds' energy into the ancient machinery that powered everything from the island's defensive shield to the mechanism that had allowed it to float in the air. Neither of which were currently working.

He wondered if that strange, and still unexplained, reaction the Chaos emeralds had had a few days ago could be starting again. Knuckles eyed the seven slowly rotating multicoloured gemstones as they hung in mid air, his frown deepening.

Warning bells began to sound in his mind. Something was nagging at the echidna now, as he made a subconscious connection between strangely behaving Chaos emeralds and that subtle difference in the air that had bothered him moments earlier. He approached the broken ring of stone marking the edge of the well and stared upwards past the hovering emeralds. Then he peered down into the near-bottomless shaft, shielding his eyes from the glare with his hand.

The air was motionless against the fur of his face and muzzle. Knuckles drew back, knowing instantly that there was something wrong.

Eyes widening a little, he took off one of his gloves, having to tug it over the bony knuckle spikes. He held out his large paw in the beam of light and almost managed to stifle a small groan of dismay.

Why hadn't he realised it earlier? He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he had barely registered the stillness of the air and the slight rise in the temperature in the emerald chamber. It was a tiny oversight, but he scolded himself all the same- even the smallest mistake could be a disaster. Especially where Chaos energy was concerned.

Knuckles withdrew his hand. There should have been a light breeze from below pushing against the skin of his palm, and the air being driven upwards should have been cold; it was still cool now, but warmer than it should have been, and the air was stagnant. A curse, and another glance at the Chaos emeralds confirmed his suspicions- their pulsating glow was a fraction brighter than it had been earlier.

How long had it been like this? Knuckles had been inspecting the island's maze of underground tunnels for most of the day, checking for collapses. If he had just returned a few hours earlier…

Well, there wasn't much point in beating himself up about it now. The important thing was trying to put a stop to this before it got any worse.

The cooling fans in the Hydrocity zone must have failed even after all the repairs. Cold was the one thing that could prevent the emeralds reacting together and warping themselves straight back to the Special zone now that they were in such close proximity to each other. Without the air being at the proper temperature, Knuckles would soon face a search for the scattered emeralds in the strange zone that his people had once termed the 'Nightmare Country'.

He had been there before, and didn't much care to repeat the experience- a quick estimate told him he had about half an hour before the emeralds energy level reached critical and they disappeared into that alternate dimension.

A moment of silent indecision. There were two options that he could see- Should he remove the emeralds from the shaft and position them far enough away from each other to be safe? No… he would still had to fix whatever had gone wrong down there, and without the chaos emeralds in place the whole island would start to shut down. The least critical systems- such as the lighting in the underground Hydrocity zone, for example- would be the first to go. He wouldn't be able to see his hand in front of his face, let alone repair some damaged equipment.

And let's not forget that within hours, the entire island would start to sink into the ocean…

The second choice was to eject the emeralds as he had done before, when the Chaos creature had tried to steal them. He wouldn't even consider that. Besides, it would have the same result, and finding a scattered set of emeralds on Mobius would be almost as difficult as searching for them in the Special zone.

So it was a race against time, then. A determined expression creased along the echidna's brow and down his pointed snout. The quickest, most direct route to the problem would involve climbing straight down the emerald shaft; but that was not really an option with the emeralds in the state they were. Last time someone had done anything like that, the result had been nasty to say the least. He had a hastily bricked up hole in the wall to prove it.

No wonder Sonic never showed his face around here anymore, Knuckles thought as he headed for one of several round tunnels leading out of the chamber. And for the second time this week he cursed at that fact. He was going to have to get to Hydrocity the long way, using the 'zoom tubes'; without Sonic's speed, he knew he would be lucky to get there in time.

All was quiet for a few moments after the spiny anteater left the room. Then there was a movement as a large shape detached itself from the shadows inside one of the zoom tubes. The figure snorted in amusement and shook its' head.

"Gullible fool…"

---

The Emerald Hill village was small, and in a main street lined with wooden houses a market was being held. It was a typically warm afternoon in the tropical zone; sunlight reflected dully from the yellow and orange tiles that paved the road, and the only clouds in the sky were high and far away.

However, none of the residents who were busy doing their shopping appeared surprised as something that sounded like distant thunder rolled across the hills outside the village. In fact, they barely even looked up. All of them had heard a sonic boom before.

The source of the noise was several miles away, and eventually came to a halt on top of one of the area's characteristic hills. Sonic paused to look around for a moment. A slight breeze ruffled his cobalt fur and the particularly green grass beneath his feet, foliage that may or may not have given the zone its' name.

He could see the sea from here. The white arc of the old suspension bridge connecting to the mainland and Metropolis City was visible, as was the unfinished new bridge with its girders painted red. Off to the left and further away was the dark bulk of the Floating Island, partly obscured by a heat haze.

Sonic frowned as he let his gaze rest on the grounded land-mass. Then some instinct that pulled at the back of his mind told him to look up, just in time to see a distant black speck arrow over his head.

Just a bird, or a plane- high in the atmosphere and moving in a straight line that suggested it knew exactly where it was going. Nothing to worry about.

The hedgehog shook off the odd sense of foreboding and broke into a run that took him down the other side of the hill.

Sonic was still tired, but restless; luckily it was the kind of mental tiredness that results from disturbed sleep, not physical exhaustion.

Perhaps there was a reason why he never sat still for long. When his thoughts had nothing to occupy themselves with, they tended to wander and spiral off in unpleasant directions. There were things a person like him did not like to think about. So whereas most people's idea of relaxation might involve a lot of sitting around and allowing their mind to go wherever it pleased, Sonic's was precisely the opposite.

He ran.

Travelling at mach speeds is not easy. Doing so while executing tight turns, leaps and generally watching where you are going is near impossible. Sonic however had it down to a fine art.

He was entering a valley now, where the ground was particularly uneven and rocks poked their heads through the grass here and there; as acceleration flattened his ears against his skull, he allowed his thoughts to dwell purely on where his feet were going and what obstacles might be ahead. The landscape blurred into a fuzz of greens and blues as he shot down the middle of the valley floor. Below the sound barrier he could hear nothing except the roar of the wind. Sonic's remaining senses focused both on what was directly beneath his feet and what was in the distance; that distance could become his problem very, very quickly at the speed he was going.

One of the zone's many stone loops was off to the left. These were house-sized upright slabs with a hole through the centre, tiled in orange and yellow like just about everything else manmade in the area and serving no real purpose except for locals to stare at and Sonic to use as his own personal assault course. His eyes had barely registered it's presence before his brain made the split-second decision to use the structure to liven up his run a little, and his legs took him towards it in a spray of torn-up grass blades.

He knew that any mistake he made here on the uneven ground could spell disaster. At any speed above what was, to Sonic, a light jog, the tiniest trip or stumble could result in smashed limbs at best, or at worst a broken neck. It didn't faze him, though. He had done this a thousand times before, and in much more difficult circumstances.

Besides, he needed to work off a little steam.

The loops were useful for building up speed. A quick jump and Sonic was inside the loop, centrifugal force keeping him from falling as he ran around a full 360 degrees. He could hit top speed without covering any distance at all this way.

On the third or fourth lap of the stone circle he caught another glimpse of something he had seen in the distance.

Palm tree, Sonic thought. Then he was back on the horizontal again and out of the loop, momentum keeping him going until his feet- briefly- touched ground again.

It was, indeed a palm tree- and a tall one, too- but the observation was barely completed before he was upon it.

Literally.

A carefully gauged stride and Sonic's trajectory switched to the vertical, using the tree trunk as a kind of runway to launch himself into the air. Arms pressed to his sides to make himself as streamlined as possible, his sheer velocity kept him going up until gravity finally took hold. Then, at the peak of the arc and travelling at his slowest, Sonic back-flipped in the air and rolled into a tight ball before the force of gravity took him towards the valley below again. Spines tore at the grass as he hit ground and the spinning action sent him briefly airborne once more- long enough to uncurl in midair before landing neatly on his feet, one hand momentarily touching the ground for balance.

Sonic straightened, shaking out his quills so that a few blades of grass and leaves drifted gently to the ground. The hedgehog smirked to himself, his heart pounding loudly in his chest as it began to slow back to normal. He had lost count how many times he had pulled off a little stunt like that- nothing too spectacular, but definitely fun. Part of him would have liked a few convenient robots to try out that spin attack on, but now Robotnik was out of the picture and the last badniks that this place had seen had long been reduced to the odd bit of scrap metal, nut or bolt lying forgotten in the grass.

In fact, it was almost like the old days before Robotnik had become a real threat, and Sonic used his powers not for saving the world, but for the sheer fun of it. He'd run around in a way that was part exercise, part hyperactivity and mostly showing off, often with Porker Lewis, or more likely Tails or Johnny watching and cheering him on….

Emerald eyes lowered miserably. No matter what he might tell himself, things weren't the same. Sonic couldn't turn back the clock, nor could he bring back the dead. There was no changing the facts

Sonic's fists clenched, and with no-one to see he let his face fall into a hopeless expression. He just couldn't get away from it. As soon as he managed to purge one painful thought from his mind, a simple memory had let another had sneak up behind him while his guard was down. He felt torn now, in several different ways- he longed for the time when he'd had none of these things weighing down his mind, and felt guilty for wanting to forget; he wanted to confide in someone and get it off his chest, but loathed the idea of being weak enough to admit he couldn't deal with it by himself.

The wind had picked up a little now, so that Sonic's spikes moved a little in the breeze. He didn't seem to feel it, though, and shot off across the landscape once more as he attempted to blot his worries from his mind the only way he knew how.

Back in the village, an elderly squirrel passed a critical eye over the produce offered by a fruit stall, before looking up as three further sonic booms echoed around in quick succession.

"Ah, Sonic's at it again," the stallholder remarked jovially. "Giving himself a right good workout too, if I'm hearing properly."

"Oh, I know, Bill." The old woman glanced disapprovingly towards the hills. "Do you know, he came hurtling through here a few days ago and all my windows cracked." She shook her head. "Young people, eh? At least that Knuckles boy was quiet."

The fruit seller picked up an apple and polished it thoughtfully.

"It's like living next to an airport," he agreed. "Still, can't go accusing him of noise pollution when he's saving the planet every other week, now can we?"

"True, Bill, very true. You know I was once in the Metropolis- dreadful place, truly dreadful, Bill- and he…"

A little later, and Sonic was sitting on a rock in the middle of nowhere, although the sequence of events that had brought him there were somewhat blurry in his mind. The hedgehog glared at the sky, feeling irrationally resentful that it was so perfectly blue. The sun was still shining and flowers in the grass bobbed their heads with irritating cheerfulness- it was about as perfect a day as you could wish for, even for the Emerald Hill zone. It didn't seem right somehow. As much as he disliked rain, he wanted a thunderstorm; it would have suited his mood better. He wanted it to be cold.

It might as well have been freezing- Sonic's arms were folded tightly, hands gripping his upper arms in an attempt to hide the slight shiver passing through them. His run hadn't done very much good.

Once upon a time it wouldn't have taken long for him to reach the kind of speeds where he would act practically on instinct alone, having no time to concentrate on anything but not crashing spectacularly. Sonic would be left with a clear head, feeling a lot calmer and in a better mood than before. For a while he could escape from whatever was bothering him.

But perhaps he had just got better at running over the years, or maybe his problems weighed more heavily on him these days. His strategy of escapism was not working as well anymore, and he had to push himself much harder before his mind stopped wandering- which was exactly what it had been doing over the past few minutes as he did high-speed circuits of the zone.

Sonic had been unable to stop himself going over the events of the week before once more, searching as usual for something he could have done differently.

Something that could have saved his friend's life.

It should have been Sonic who connected the power cable of Porker's machine. But the hedgehog had been paralysed with fear, and it had been Johnny Lightfoot who had somehow beaten back the terror and connected the two ends of the cable. Johnny, who Sonic had known since childhood and was one of the quietest and most laid-back of them all- who had then taken the full brunt of the Chaos creature's fury in the final moment before the machine temporarily blew it apart.

The helpless rabbit hadn't stood a chance. And all because Sonic hadn't found the strength to take those last few steps towards the monster…

He couldn't stand the thought of that. He was supposed to be the hero, he was supposed to save the day, not stand by and watch people he cared about die. And perhaps what stung the most was that he was responsible- responsible for the death of one of his closest friends, just as he had been responsible for his safety. Only he hadn't realised- for years he had been reckless, the thought that someone might get hurt not even entering his head. Johnny had paid the price, in the end.

And Sonic had a new responsibility now. The thought that he might indirectly cause someone else to get hurt was bad enough. But now it was possible that one day, he might do so with his own hands

Super Sonic.

If he had been given the time to think it over, Sonic would never have told Ebony to merge him with his evil alter ego. There had to have been another way. But there had been no time to think. Super Sonic was insanely powerful, and would have killed everyone if he hadn't been stopped- It was only a couple of days after Johnny died, and Sonic was thinking about responsibility for the first time in years. Super Sonic was his problem, and he had to deal with himquickly. Regardless of the danger to himself.

It was just what a hero was supposed to do.

But this time it wasn't just Sonic in danger, of course; with Super Sonic a part of him again, he was a walking time bomb. He remembered once, a long time ago, coming to his senses to see a scene of devastation, with Tails' plane in flames and no sign of life anywhere. The fear that he had caused his friends' deaths. And the guilt.

That time, however, they had actually survived unscathed. The next time might be different. And Sonic had to admit there would be a next time- as much as he liked to entertain the thought that Super Sonic was gone forever, the nightmares proved otherwise. Despite all he had told himself, however much he tried to ignore the dreams, he had to face up to the fact that his own personal demon was still there.

And no matter how bad he felt, the sun was still daring to shine. It just wasn't fair.

Alone, Sonic didn't have to worry about anyone seeing his depressed side—what he considered weakness. Oddly, he found himself able to think about difficult subjects more easily too. It was much less difficult to forget about his pride for a moment when no one was watching.

The fact of the matter was, he had to admit that Amy might just have been right. He could possibly have a problem. And just maybe, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed help. It would probably be a good idea to at least get it off his chest…

Because if he didn't, it was possible his problem could escalate into something life-threatening for everyone around him.

Something in Sonic protested loudly at that, as it totally went against his nature of dealing with things by himself. His pride was smarting. But he heaved a frustrated sigh and got to his feet, brushing the odd bit of grass and dirt from his run out of his azure fur.

"Responsibility…" he muttered grimly to himself.

This time, his feet took him to the Metropolis zone.

---

It occurred to Knuckles that he could really get to hate water.

He had found himself up to his ankles in it again; and what's more, it was particularly unpleasant, cold water with a scum of green algae floating on the top. He momentarily wrinkled his nose in disgust as he continued to slog through the murky liquid; but told himself that what he was doing down here was more important than what he might have to walk through along the way.

The Hydrocity zone had once controlled the circulation of water throughout the Floating Island, as well as containing other vital pieces of machinery. The zone had practically run itself for years- but now, like many of the island's zones it was in a state of disrepair after centuries of wear and tear and the recent crash into the sea. Most of the equipment had since been restored, and worked- if somewhat less efficiently than before- but Knuckles was sure the place wasn't supposed to be half flooded. Then again, it had been for most of the times he had explored the subterranean chambers, and everything had worked reasonably well then.

The cracked green and brown tiles on the walls shone faintly here and there where they weren't streaked with slimy weed, reflecting the dimly pulsating light. He stared upwards towards the unseen light source, frowning worriedly as it flared brightly for a few seconds before fading back to its' former twilight-like illumination; it had taken Knuckles about twenty minutes to make his way here, and judging by those power surges it wouldn't be long before the Chaos emeralds reached critical.

He hoped the damage to the cooling fans wasn't serious- anything he couldn't put right or bodge a repair to within the next few minutes would be a disaster. The echidna pushed all trace of panic from his mind and waded forwards towards a doorway he could see ahead. Judging by the low humming sound and the vibration in the freezing water swirling around his legs, he was almost directly beneath the emerald chamber and this next room was the one he needed.

He increased his pace and had soon stepped up onto a slightly raised platform that was merely damp rather than submerged. Water began to form a small puddle around his feet as he stared at the doorway- and realised immediately that there was something wrong.

There wasn't any door.

There had been a door- a thick stone one, and in quite good condition- last time he was here. But now the entrance was blocked with rubble as if the ceiling of the chamber beyond had collapsed. And that was possibly the worst thing that could have happened- if the room had caved in completely he could forget about getting the fans working again within a few short minutes, if at all. He would just have to hope the cave-in was confined to the area around the entrance. Knuckles groaned- and the lights flared again, as if in reply. The intense brightness lasted longer this time, and something caught the echidna's eye in the different light.

"What…"

Perplexed, the echidna ran his hand over the rubble wall where the door was supposed to be, causing pieces of the loose material to clatter to the floor. Frowning, he bent down to retrieve a small chip of debris from the ground, and almost dropped it in surprise- through his gloves the stone fragment felt warm to the touch where it should have been as bitterly cold as everything else in this place. He turned it over in his paw to reveal what had drawn his attention to it- one side of the stone was black and pitted.

A quick glance around confirmed that there were indeed other chunks of darkened masonry littered around in close proximity to the doorway. Masonry that had once formed part of a substantial carved door. Some of the pieces still had a wisp or two of smoke drifting up from them.

He had seen damage like that before- it meant something had been burnt, or blasted- and it also meant he was not looking at something as simple as a structural failure.

Knuckles' puzzled frown turned into a snarl of anger. The door hadn't blown up by itself. Somebody had done this. He hated intruders but that was nothing compared to what he thought of people who tried to sabotage his island; the echidna's teeth bared instinctively and his fist briefly clenched around the door fragment before relaxing again. The object hit the floor with a small hard sound, and skittered off the platform into the water.

The rockfall blocking his way looked substantial, but Knuckles had dug through worse. His knuckle spikes carved at the loose stone and earth that had fallen from the ceiling, and just when he was beginning to dread that the collapse had indeed destroyed the entire chamber his fist and then his head broke through into empty air.

The first thing he heard was a continuous roaring sound, and he immediately had to cover his face to protect himself from a blast of cold wind as he pulled himself out of the hole he'd dug. Squinting against the sand particles that were trying to drive themselves into his eyes, the red echidna saw immediately that he had found his goal- and the reason why the cooling fans were not doing their job was painfully obvious.

He was standing in a circular room that mirrored the layout of the emerald chamber directly above, even down to the support columns and the round hole in the ceiling. However, the walls and floor were tiled in a watery blue that filled the room with a cold light; and where the Chaos emeralds would have been there was something resembling a stone version of a satellite dish array, except instead of a disc there were three massive, bronze bladed fans. One of them hadn't worked for years or possibly centuries- the metal blades were frozen in place and crusted with a green patina of age; the other two however were still spinning at full force. Somehow the array had been knocked out of alignment so that instead of the wind being directed straight up the emerald shaft it banshee-ed aimlessly around the room.

Knuckles glanced again at the fallen ceiling- his makeshift tunnel was already collapsing behind him- and then at the misaligned fan array. The wind blew directly into his face, forcing his head spines backwards, but he was not quite close enough for the gale to knock him off balance. He didn't need to be a genius to figure out what had happened- whoever it was had blasted or shot down the door, sabotaged the cooling fans and then brought down part of the ceiling to block up the exit.

The only exit, Knuckles thought suddenly. There had probably been other ways out once, but had variously been closed up or fallen in over the years.

One way in, one way out. And if the ceiling had been brought down from inside the room…

The thought barely had time to register, and it was lucky for Knuckles that it sunk in quickly. Otherwise the sudden bolt of energy from behind would probably have deprived the echidna of his head.

He dodged and spun around, spines blowing out in front of him in the wind.

"What the…"

The robot perched on the rubble mound had been concealed behind a large boulder. It now stepped into full view, and made no reply other than a low whirring that was lost in the roar of the fans. A faint smoke puff drifted from the muzzle of the gun in its claw hand.

Getting his first good look at the six-foot-high metallic being, Knuckles was puzzled. The odd thing was although he was no stranger to marauding robots- not by a long way- this was not one he recognised; it neither had the organic curves of an ancient echidna-built machine, nor was it any kind of badnik he'd seen before. The only thing it really reminded him of was one of Robotnik's old trooper robots, minus its' armour- and its' head.

But he would have to leave worrying about that for later. This robot was probably the cause of all the trouble, Knuckles thought as he quickly assessed the situation. And wherever it had come from it was clearly hostile- he didn't have time for a drawn-out fight when the Chaos emeralds were getting ready to warp, and he didn't need it causing any more damage, so he would have to get rid of the thing quickly.

"So you decided to stick around, did you?" the echidna shouted over the noise. "That was a mistake. I don't like guys who mess with my island."

His course of action decided, Knuckles raised his formidable fisted paws and charged.

He wasn't Sonic, but he was quick enough to dodge the robot's next volley of energy beams. The wind was at his back, which made it difficult for him to manoeuvre. Not so difficult that he couldn't reach the bipedal machine unscathed, however.

It relies mostly on firepower, Knuckles observed on his approach. The machine hadn't moved much, apart from shifting its aim. Doesn't seem very agile…

Attempting to turn that to his advantage, he aimed his first punch at the robot's gun arm. But instead of the combined force of his swing and his speed sending his knuckle spurs deep into the circuitry of the robot, its other arm whipped around with deceptive swiftness and swatted the echidna away with a smack of metal colliding with flesh.

Knuckles found himself flying through the air; but the wind caught at his spines, which spread out umbrella-like as if he was gliding- sending him first straight up at a ridiculous speed, then down and sideways in an uncontrolled dive.

There was a dull thud. Knuckles slid down a column and landed in a heap at the bottom. He shook his head groggily, then rubbed his bruised midriff as he aimed a glare at the robot. It was calmly clambering down from the rubble pile, the wind not seeming to faze it at all.

"That'll teach me not to act on first impressions," the irked echidna muttered under his breath. He heaved himself to his feet- the robot was moving towards him now, slowly and methodically. It probably wanted a better aim.

Although the unexpected fall had been painful, it had given Knuckles an idea- He'd been caught off guard, but perhaps that wind could be used to his advantage… the strange machine wasn't the only one who could be unpredictable when it wanted to.

Again he ran full pelt at the faceless robot, which didn't show the slightest surprise at Knuckles' seemingly suicidal attack. The mass of circuits that served as its brain calculated distance and trajectory, and the gun barrel slowly moved to aim in the direction which gave the highest probability of hitting the fast-moving target.

But said target made a short upwards hop, his spines fanned out behind him as the wind caught and lifted him again, and the robot was left aiming at an echidna that simply wasn't there any more.

The machine was slightly confused- or as close to it as its artificial mind could manage.

It's sound detectors registered a soft thump from nearby.

"Behind you," Knuckles suggested helpfully.

The robot began a lumbering turn towards its adversary, but before the movement could be completed a clawed fist drove itself into its torso with a satisfying metallic crunch. Servos whined in protest as the gunner 'bot staggered briefly, now sporting a substantial hole in the middle of it's back. It refused to fall, however, and shakily righted itself.

Several bunches of fitfully sparking wires now protruded from the irregular tear in the robot's metal skin- Knuckles had no idea what it was he had damaged, but it was probably something important. Both of the robot's chrome plated arms had been rendered immobile and had sprung into an awkward position at right angles to the body, the gun dangling uselessly from one claw.

But the robot wasn't quite finished yet. It swung around, attempting to strike the red mammal with its stiffly outstretched arms. Knuckles ducked- and aware that another leap would probably send him careering across the room again, swept his leg around in a kick aimed at the machine's legs. The sole of his boot connected solidly with one spindly metallic limb and knocked the robot off balance- it swayed uncertainly on one foot for a second or two, then with another screech of overworked motors, keeled over sideways. A loud clang rose over the wind's roar as the metal body hit the stone floor, crushing one of the paralysed mechanical arms beneath its own weight. One of the lenses mounted on the shoulders cracked and sent sharp fragments across the floor of the chamber.

Knuckles squinted against the wind that was hitting him full-force again now the robot was no longer partly shielding him. He nudged the wreckage with his toe. It did not move.

But he had no time for self-congratulation; as if reminding him of the situation, the lights flared to an unbearably bright level for several seconds. He looked up apprehensivelynot much time leftthen stepped over the downed robot and headed for the fan array, one hand held protectively over his face. It failed to stop the icy blast from making his eyes water, but through the teary haze he saw with some relief that the array, which was designed to pivot at its base to allow for fine-tuning, had simply been moved rather than damaged. He just had to get it pointing in the right direction again.

Which was easier said than done given that he was now practically sliding backwards across the floor. The fans were pointing slightly upwards and not directly at him, but it would still be almost impossible to get anywhere near them. He could only console himself with the fact that only two of the large propellers were actually working, so his task was a third easier than it could have been.

But that was a very small comfort when he couldn't even get close. And now the occasional flaring of the lights had changed to a constant, strobe-like flickering, sending sharp-edged shadows wavering around the room.

He almost missed the strained mechanical whine from behind, with the noisy bronze fans so close. The movement he caught out of the corner of his eye was more obvious, however. It alerted him to the presence of a damaged robot lurching drunkenly towards him from behind, one arm held rigidly out from the body and the other reduced to a tangle of sparking wires.

"Not ready to give up yet?" he muttered, as an idea began to dawn on him. "Well, that's lucky for me."

It was easy to dodge around the tottering metal figure. Almost before it could process the situation it found itself being propelled violently forwards; Knuckles' hands were planted firmly on it's waist joint, and he was running straight at the fan array with the robot forming a crude wind shield.

The two slammed against the base of the array with impressive force. Pinned to the wide column, the robot made an odd chugging sound, sparked a few times, and went limp.

The three fans above wobbled under the impact. The wobble turned to a nod, then agonisingly slowly, they began to tip backwards.

Knuckles held his breath, squinting upwards while his large paws held the dead robot in place.

The fans tilted forwards once more, and wavered there as if trying to make up their mind.

Then, abruptly, the array settled into its proper upright position with a satisfyingly audible clunk.

The scarlet echidna breathed out a long sigh of relief, releasing his grip on the strange robot. It slumped to the ground at the base of the array with a metallic clatter; Knuckles gave it the briefest of glances before turning his eyes to the ceiling again. The light was still too bright, and flickering garishly; but as he watched over the next minute or so it began to return to normal. The wind died down to a slight breeze now that it's main force was being directed elsewhere, and the noise faded enough that the relative quiet felt as if a physical pressure had suddenly been removed from his ears.

A quick search of the room revealed there were no more robots in hiding. Another disaster averted, Knuckles thought to himself. And another repair job to take up his time- this place would be needing a new door. A reinforced one, the echidna mentally added after a further moment's thought. He aimed a disdainful glare at the wreckage of the faceless robot. Some of the welded seams had split with the force of impact, and the torso was generally a dented mess. But still, the robot was completely unfamiliar- Knuckles had seen enough badniks in his time to know that the blocky, minimal design was not Robotnik's style at all. And, the echidna thought, the robot hadn't seemed very intelligent- not intelligent enough to have been acting of its own accord, so someone must have sent it even if it hadn't been Robotnik.

But who? Someone who probably hadn't known what they were up against, Knuckles mused. Otherwise they would have sent more than just one robot. The machine had been no weakling, but it hadn't been that difficult to overcome… although he was no expert on robot design, he could tell that this one wasn't designed to combat enemies who could fight back- at least, not on its own. It was too slow, more suited to attacking from a distance than at close-range. Even Robotnik would have had enough sense to realise it would be outmatched against the echidna…

He couldn't think of any other reason for someone to send a robot down here other than to get the Chaos emeralds off the island. But what good would that do? And- he frowned- if they knew enough about the Floating Island to sabotage the cooling fans, surely they knew about Knuckles and would have come more prepared…

Knuckles blinked as his train of thought was broken by a strange gleam from the carcass of the robot. Amethyst eyes narrowed as he cautiously approached the wreck once more- it could have been a trick of the already wavering light, or a last dying spark from some electrical device- no, there was definitely something there. A seam along the machine's chest pate had split open, and something inside was glowing softly.

He pulled away a loose section of metal and regarded the innards of the robot. The glowing object was clearly visible, myriad wires snaking out from either end to attach to various other bizarre-looking bits of technology. At first, he thought he was looking at one of those fuse things Porker had put in some of the new equipment in the emerald chamber, or some kind of glass vial. It was eight inches or so long, mounted vertically in the robot's chest and about two thirds filled with a luminescent green liquid that glowed faintly.

For a few moments Knuckles debated over whether or not to remove the glass tube and take it with him. But for all he knew, he could be looking at a self destruct system, or a booby trap- better not to touch. He would get someone who knew about technology to take a look at it later, and maybe then he would find out who had built the thing and why…

But that would mean dragging the remnants of the robot all the way through the waterlogged Hydrocity zone and back to the emerald chamber. Knuckles sighed. This was rapidly becoming one of 'those' days.

What the echidna couldn't have known was this particular day was going to get a lot worse. If his mind hadn't been distracted by the odd glowing cylinder, his thoughts would have come to the right conclusion about the reason for the robot's presence- not that it would have made much difference, because by then it would already have been too late…

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To be continued

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Yes, I know. An entire chapter of rambling about nothing much.

Right…. Ack… on with the next chapter. Will take a while but it'll have more plot and less waffle, promise…………

Thalia